


The Mirror's Heart

by Dolimir



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-20
Updated: 2011-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-27 15:29:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolimir/pseuds/Dolimir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair has trouble believing what he sees in the mirror.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mirror's Heart

**Author's Note:**

> A special thanks to DebraC and Lilguppee for taking a looksee at this story which was written as a birthday snippet for the dcp (who I dearly miss).
> 
> Spoilers for Sweet Science.
> 
> Originally published 8/19/02.
> 
> *-*-*-*-*-*

Blair Sandburg trudged up the stairs to the loft, weary of mind and body. His spirits, however, were high as he had a free weekend and no essays to grade or papers to write; and as Jim was scheduled for the weekend off, there were no anticipated stakeouts. He had every intention of slumming the entire weekend.

Although his body was running on fumes, his mind immediately took in the chaos of the loft as he opened the door. Slowly, he maneuvered his backpack to his chest and quietly unzipped the outer pocket in order to get his cell phone.

"Hey, Chief," Jim called out, leaning on the railing of his bedroom.

Clutching his cell phone, Blair waved his hand around the loft and asked, "What happened?"

Jim chuckled. "Sorry about the mess. But you know how I said I wanted to refinish the floors up here?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I decided there was no time like the present. I hope you don't mind the mess for a few days."

"Hey, it's no skin off my nose." Blair closed the front door and dropped his keys and cell phone into the wicker basket, then moved to his room. "But I expect you to remember my generosity the next time you come home and find my stuff scattered all over the place." He tossed his pack onto the bed, then headed toward the refrigerator for a beer. "Do you need any help?"

Jim jogged down the stairs and joined him in the kitchen. "Nope. Besides, I know this is your first free weekend in a while. And to tell you the truth, I'm sort of looking forward to losing myself in the mindless monotony of the job."

Blair handed him a cold bottle of beer. "Say the word, man, and I'm yours; otherwise, I just plan to eat, sleep, read and generally be a bum."

"I appreciate the offer, but it won't be necessary. You really do look like you could do with some downtime. Besides, your batteries have been running pretty low for the last couple of weeks. You definitely need the time to reenergize."

Blair rolled his gaze heavenward and dodged Jim's attempted swat to his head.

"Will the noise bother you?" Jim asked sincerely, although his grin over Blair's escape remained on his face.

"Nah. No, honestly," Blair hastened to reassure Jim when he saw his roommate frown. "I'm a student. I can study or sleep anywhere. It's a survival skill learned through years of partying and the general mayhem that is academic life." Blair walked to the couch and plopped backward on it. "Just promise me you'll open the windows and make sure you get good cross-ventilation."

"Yes, mother."

Blair looked casually toward the free-standing, full-length mirror which normally stood in the corner of Jim's bedroom, but was now standing in silent watch, catty-corner, at the bottom of the stairs. The reflection of Jim staring back at him took his breath away. The condensation-slick bottle slipped from Blair's hand.

"Whoa, Chief, are you okay?" Jim asked when he heard the glass clunk on the table.

Blair shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Uh, yeah, man. I guess I'm a little more tired than I thought."

"Well, no more beers for you, Sparky. Finish that one up, then head off to bed."

"Jim..."

His roommate stood by the couch, towering over him with his arms crossed over his chest. "You heard me."

Blair barked out in laughter, then said in a loud whiney tone, "Geez, Jim, Naomi usually lets me stay up until ten."

Jim had the good graces to blush.

"But actually," Blair said in a much quieter tone as he stood, "it's not a bad idea. Nothing like getting a hop on the weekend."

"Sandburg, I didn't mean--" Jim stuttered.

Blair smiled and patted Jim's arm as he passed. "Night, Jim."

*-*-*-*-*-*

Blair shuffled to the bathroom, barely cognizant of the fact his roommate was already up and working.

When Blair came back out a few minutes later, his morning ablutions complete, he stretched and yawned.

"It lives," Jim teased from above.

"Time?" he croaked, even as he headed unerringly toward the coffee.

The amusement in Jim's voice was clear. "It's almost nine-thirty."

Blair waved to indicate that he had heard him, but couldn't bring himself to speak. "Ah." He sighed happily after he took his first sip of coffee.

Jim's chuckle reverberated around the loft. Blair ignored him and took a second sip. After taking another moment to enjoy the liquid ambrosia, he stretched, then pulled another mug from the cabinet and filled it. Topping off his own mug, he turned and carried both up the stairs to Jim's room.

"Wow!" Blair said as he surveyed Jim's bedroom. "How long have you been up?" Blair handed his roommate a mug, then sat at the edge of the stairs.

"Since about sunrise. I was afraid I'd wake you, but you weren't kidding about being able to sleep through anything."

Blair smiled at him. "Have you changed your mind about wanting help?"

"Nope." Jim took a deep gulp of coffee. "So what are you planning to read today?"

"The latest Coben suspense. Several people have recommended it and Jess loaned me her hard cover."

"Rafe said he enjoyed that one."

"You can read it when I'm done."

Jim took another sip. "You sure Jess won't mind?"

"Nah, you know she won't." Blair took a leisurely breath and let it go slowly. "So, do you think you'll get done today?"

"That's the plan. I'm hoping to get the stripping done by eleven. I figured we'd go to Jose's for lunch and beat the lunch crowd, then after lunch I'll buff it down and apply the first coat of finish, if the weather permits."

"Sounds like my cue to leave, man." Blair stood, ignoring his popping bones, and held his hand out for Jim's mug. Jim quickly finished the dregs of his coffee, then grinned up at Blair as he handed it back. "Thanks, Chief."

"No problem. Just give me a shout if you need anything."

As Blair started to descend the stairs, his eyes flicked to the mirror. Again, it reflected back a Jim whose every emotion lay on his face. But by the time he turned, Jim was already engrossed in his work.

Shaking his head as he headed down the rest of the stairs, he wondered briefly if he was losing his mind.

*-*-*-*-*-*

As it turned out, the weather after lunch didn't permit Jim to apply the finish to the floor, so he spent the rest of the afternoon puttering around the loft making repairs. Blair, for the most part, tuned him out, but found himself looking toward the mirror more and more often.

It didn't make sense.

The mirror was nothing more than a reflective surface. It wasn't like it could alter reality. And yet, on several occasions that's exactly what it appeared to do. He would glance up at the mirror, only to find Jim's eyes on him. The expressions ranged from bemusement, to longing, to love.

Blair blinked at the page in front of him, realizing he had no idea what the last several paragraphs said.

Love.

James, as Blair had come to think of the reflection of his friend, loved him. Of that, he had no doubt. But each time he twisted in his chair to look at his roommate, all he saw was Jim -- plain, old, reliable Jim, looking like he hadn't a care in the world.

Why would the mirror lie to him?

Blair scoffed at the very idea.

It was obvious Jim was schooling his expressions.

And yet, Blair had never before caught expressions of love from Jim. Not to this degree or intensity. Not once in the three years they had lived together.

So why was the mirror showing him things that weren't real?

*-*-*-*-*-*

Blair knew he was tired. The last several weeks had been a constant juggling act, trying to balance his teaching, studying, thesis work, police work and guide work, with too little time to eat, sleep or relax.

So why, on a perfect Sunday afternoon, with nothing else to do but lose himself in a book did he find himself depressed?

Because, he came to realize, he wanted James to be reality. He wanted his Jim to look at him with the same longing, the same intensity, as his reflected counterpart did.

He took a deep breath and held it for a moment before releasing it.

He had spent most of his life flitting from one person to the next, no doubt a genetic trait he had picked up from Naomi. While people had often speculated that he was incapable of commitment, Blair knew quite the opposite to be true. He had simply been searching for someone to take care of and who would take care of him. He wanted someone he could share every aspect of his life with; but it wasn't until he had looked into the mirror that he realized he essentially had everything he had been looking for with Jim. Except that Jim didn't love him. Oh, his Jim had great affection for him. Trusted him. Took care of him. Let Blair take care of him. But it wasn't the same.

The mirror had shown him what he was missing.

Blair chewed on his lower lip, then closed his eyes and berated himself. So what? He didn't need Jim's love in order to feel complete. He didn't. But as he opened his eyes, his gaze immediately sought the mirror, shattering the lie he had worked so hard to believe.

He turned, resting his chin on the back of the sofa and looked at Jim who was puttering around the kitchen and humming quietly to himself.

As if feeling Blair's eyes upon him, Jim looked up and smiled. "Chicken sound good for dinner, Chief?"

"Yeah, Jim. Chicken sounds great. Do you need any help?"

"Nope. Just enjoy your book." Jim then all but disappeared into the refrigerator.

Blair blinked back hot, unexpected tears. He had everything he'd ever wanted...with Jim. Why was it suddenly not enough?

*-*-*-*-*-*

Blair cringed as Jim slammed the loft's front door behind them. This was going to be bad. He wondered briefly if he could make it to his room before Jim started. If he could only make it to his room...

"Do you want to tell me now what in the hell you were thinking?" Jim growled as he took off his jacket, wadded it up and threw it on the floor beneath the coat hooks.

Blair stooped to pick the jacket up and hung it up properly, then slid his own off and placed it next to Jim's.

"You could have been killed!" Jim shouted in frustration.

"Jamie wouldn't have hurt me."

Jim stared at him with a look of such incredulousness that had the circumstances been different, Blair might have laughed. "The man stuck a gun in your face, Sandburg."

"He was scared."

"He was scared? Christ Almighty! Do you have a death wish or something?"

Blair took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to dissipate the anger which was beginning to broil inside him. "You know as well as I do that Jamie didn't kill Roy. He was scared. He didn't know where else to turn."

"So you offered yourself up as a hostage?"

"I was just trying to control the situation, man. Aren't you always telling me that you need to establish a trust in a situation like that so it doesn't escalate into unnecessary violence?"

Jim exploded into the front room, then spun to face him. "Sandburg, how many god damn times do I have to remind you that you are not a cop?"

"I know I'm not a cop, Jim," Blair shouted. "But I know Jamie. He wasn't going to listen to you. I thought maybe if he and I could go somewhere I could calm him down and make him listen to reason."

Jim raised his clenched hands toward the ceiling, then let them fall to his sides, and said quietly, "Well, that plan went over real well, didn't it? He landed in intensive care with three bullets in his body."

Blair sucked in a breath as if Jim had just punched him in the stomach. He took a moment and tried to calm his breathing. "Look, next to Sharita, Jamie was all the family Roy had. I owed it to Roy to try to keep Jamie safe."

"Williams is dead, Chief. Joining him wouldn't have accomplished a damn thing."

Blair clutched his fist in anger and turned away from Jim, afraid of what he might say if he opened his mouth. The mirror at the bottom of the stairs caught his attention and he was overwhelmed with his need to see James. His feet, as if drawn by a siren's call, took him to stand before the reflective surface.

His heart caught in his throat as he saw the look of raw vulnerability on James' face. Blair bit back a sorrowful moan as he watched James struggle with the fear of having almost lost him. He knew if he had been hurt, James would have been devastated, inconsolable.

He dropped his chin to his chest, unable to endure the pain in James' eyes any longer.

"Sandburg!"

Blair didn't turn to face Jim, couldn't bear to see the look of disappointment in Jim's eyes. Instead, he looked back at the mirror, reached out and touched the cool glass, his fingers tracing the strong jaw line of the man who loved him.

"What are you doing?"

But Blair couldn't bring himself to give any words of explanation as both Jim and James drew closer. Blair splayed his hand on the mirror, over the reflection's heart, wishing he could soothe away the worry lines around the beloved eyes.

"He loves me," Blair said finally, then closed his eyes when he realized how insane he sounded. It was said that grief could drive one mad. Was his grief over Roy's death pushing him toward the edge?

Jim stopped just behind him, standing so close that Blair could feel the heat of Jim's body warming his back.

"Yes, he does," Jim whispered, as if speaking in a normal tone of voice would shatter them both. "How did you know?"

Blair opened his eyes and focused on the beloved face in the mirror. "I can see it in his eyes, in his nuances. In the way he looks at me. I wish..."

Jim closed the slight distance between them and pressed his body up against Blair's back. "You wish what, Chief?"

"I wish you loved me like he does."

James gave him a devastating smile.

"I do," Jim whispered next to his ear.

Blair shook his head as he watched James reached out and brushed his hair from his neck. Blair shivered as he watched the beloved image sniff the juncture of his neck and shoulders. His eyes fell shut and he leaned back into the solid warmth of Jim as soft kisses were peppered onto his neck.

Hands encircled his waist and moved up his chest, pulling his shirt from his jeans. Warm nimble fingers sought his nipple ring. Blair's eyes popped open, even as he leaned back into Jim, and sought James' light blue eyes. Jim's hands burned him, rubbing slowly up and down his body, teasing his crotch, then dancing away, only to return again.

Blair whimpered and undulated under Jim's hands, seeking...seeking...

"You've never looked at me like he does," Blair whispered.

"I'm sorry."

Blair allowed his hands to reach backward and skim Jim's hips and thighs.

"Turn around and look at me now, Blair."

Blair gasped and arched as Jim's fingers scratched down the middle of his chest. "I can't."

"Why not?" Jim hands never stopped moving, never stopped caressing.

"Because I couldn't bear not see your heart."

Jim nibbled on his ear lobe. "You've seen my heart, Blair. In fact, you may be the only one who's ever seen it."

"But if I..."

"Turn around, Blair. Turn around and see the mirror's heart."

Blair stared at the reflection.

"Take a chance," it whispered to him.

Blair nodded, turned and looked up into mirror made flesh. Smiling as he recognized the face of his beloved, he whispered, "Hello, James."


End file.
